


Permanent

by ArielSutherland



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depressed Vanya Hargreeves, Gen, Hurt Vanya Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentioned Reginald Hargreeves, POV Vanya Hargreeves, Pre-Apocalypse, Reginald Hargreeves Being an Asshole, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Scarification, Scars, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Tattoos, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vanya Hargreeves-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielSutherland/pseuds/ArielSutherland
Summary: Much like her siblings, Vanya already wore the umbrella icon on her uniform blazer, her coat, her socks, and even on her pajamas. So why couldn't she wear it on her skin, too?TW: Self Harm
Kudos: 36





	Permanent

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't really a story as much as it is an idea, but I couldn't get it out of my head, so here's another shitty one shot!

From the staircase, Vanya watched as the needle buzzed and dark ink was slowly etched into the forearms of her siblings, permanently branding them as members of the Umbrella Academy.

She didn't know why she wanted one so badly. It brought Allison and Klaus to tears, and judging by the way Diego's eyes were clenched shut in pain, he was close to tears himself. 

She didn't know why she wanted any of it. Vanya had no illusions that what they did, their missions, were any fun. She knew from the dark circles under Klaus's eyes or the way Diego stuttered his worst after training. She knew from the way Ben came home, clothes torn and soaked in blood that wasn't his own. 

But she saw them together, knees touching; she heard their whispered assurances to each other, and saw the careful way Klaus hugged Allison as they cradled their arms, crying. Vanya absently wondered if anyone had ever hugged her like that (or at all).

Compared to their genuine tattoos, her smeared crayola marker imitation seemed crude. How long would the washable ink would last, she thought. 

Not long enough. 

Not forever. 

She lasted fourteen days, redrawing it eight times and switching to permanent marker three days in. Her siblings tattoos hadn't even fully healed get, and she couldn't even keep up with tracing. She couldn't just redraw it forever.

She needed something truly permanent.

Searching through her drawers, digging past heavily creased sheet music and old medicine bottles, Vanya found what she was looking for. A couple years ago, Mom insisted that she have a blade should she ever needed to defend herself- not that Reginald had ever let her learn how to use it.

Picking it up carefully, she held it in her right hand.

She hesitated, holding her breath and listening to the quiet inhabitants of the house. She could hear Klaus talking to himself in his room next to her, the faint melody of Allison's pop music, and if she strained her ears, the faint clinking of dishes as Grace cleaned up dinner.

As quietly as she could, Vanya took a deep breath. With more confidence, she traced the thick marker lines on her with the tip of the old knife, recalling how it used to belong to Diego. 

The umbrella she had drawn had transfered oddly on her other arm as she had slept, the black ink now a faded greenish color. She couldn't just keep redrawing it.

She frowned. Luther and Allison had seen it today during break time from underneath her blazer cuff and she saw how they forced themseves not to laugh. 

She pressed down, stifling a quiet gasp as she drew a small bead of blood. 

"You wouldn't understand, Vanya," they had said to her, sighing and giving her a dirty look, "You're just ordinary." 

She kept going, drawing even more blood. A lopsided circle began to appear, an oozing red that began to trail down her arm. 

"We can accomplish anything when we accept responsibility together, " Reginald always said. But there was never any _we_ and there was no _together_ , not where Number 7 was concerned. 

She gripped the knife harder, jagged lines forming the half moon shapes of the umbrellas tips, dripping down the canopy like raindrops. 

The ambient sounds of the house seemed to grow louder as her heart beat faster. She swore she could hear Five scratch on the chalkboard of his walls and hear the the infrequent page turn of Ben reading in his room. 

Vanya stared, satisfied, at her crimson masterpiece, the tip of the knife resting on the handle of the umbrella where she finished. 

She had a feeling the marking would stick around a little longer this time.


End file.
